


Electric Feel

by theoxfordcommando



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, elf licking, enough fluff to smother oneself with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoxfordcommando/pseuds/theoxfordcommando
Summary: "Just being near Fenris was like standing next to a lightning rod. Reaching out to touch warmed Hawke from the inside out, a soft warmth that choked his heart, breath catching as he'd smile down on this man that he loved so much that his whole being ached with it.To taste him was transcendent."Musings on Hawke and Fenris, lyrium and lightning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm relatively new to the fanfic game (at least as a player; I've always been a much better spectator).  
> And I am aware it's a ridiculous title, don't look at me like that.  
> Just some horrendously fluffy PWP because I could and I did.

Fenris let his head fall hard against the mattress as he let out a groan. Louder than usual.  
Hawke smiled from where he was pressed against the skin of the elf's left hipbone, irrationally pleased with himself. Hawke must have been at it for at least half an hour.

The task at hand: to taste every last bit of Fenris, slowly, reverently, until one of them couldn't take it anymore and they would do away with the foreplay and chase their bliss, as it were.

From his spot between Fenris' splayed legs, Hawke marvelled at how patient his lover had been. It had to have been three quarters of an hour, he silently amended, and Fenris, despite a deep flush and marked shifts in his breathing rhythm, had remained remarkably composed.

Considering.

It wasn't always this easy between them, the playful flirtation, drawn-out lovemaking.

But some nights, like this one, when their demons were silent and their minds untroubled by nagging guilt or fear, it became like a game, a competition to see who could hold out the longest. There was no rush, no overwhelming need, just endless time at their disposal to utterly lose themselves in one another. Which Hawke found he was doing incredibly well, if he did say so himself.

This night was even rarer still. This night, Fenris had allowed Hawke a treat; the chance to worship his body thoroughly.

Tonight Hawke had focussed on the tattoos. Sometimes the tattoos were off limits, some days they caused aches, other days they burned after being overworked. But today Fenris felt good, and so Hawke was allowed a taste.

He had started at Fenris' forehead, a quick, soft kiss to each of the dots hidden under his hair. He had quickly moved down to the chin, soft kisses moving down to lave along Fenris' throat, suck on his Adam's apple. Fenris had made a sound low in his throat that had vibrated through Hawke's entire body, making him shiver.

For Hawke could not deny the effect the lyrium had on him. Magic was always there between them and always would be. And it wasn't the poetic, metaphorical concept of magic, but a very real thing, thrumming in both their veins.

Their magic was dangerous, complicated.

There was so much pain tied up in magic, in memories. But here, with Hawke in this quiet moment, Fenris felt no pain. For him, Hawke's wicked tongue tracing lines over his chest set nerve endings alight. It was an entirely strange sensation, like running a finger over scar tissue where the nerves had never truly healed. It tingled, spread in radius from Hawke's mouth, the feeling rushing like wildfire over his skin, causing him to arch into the contact, breath rushing out of him in low moans. Some days it was too much. But not tonight. Tonight it was exactly what Fenris needed. What he wanted.

For Hawke--oh, for Hawke--the sensation was like nothing he had ever known in his life. It was indescribable, incomparable. Just being near Fenris was like standing next to a lightning rod. Reaching out to touch warmed Hawke from the inside out, a soft warmth that choked his heart, breath catching as he'd smile down on this man that he loved so much that his whole being ached with it.

To taste him was transcendent.

Running a tongue up along the tattoo the curved alongside Fenris' hipbone, Hawke felt the electric buzz, his senses momentarily heightened, every touch, every caress was more. And as Fenris arched his back, pushing into Garrett's mouth, Hawke began to suck a bruise onto the elf's skin on the soft flesh just to the side of his hipbone, just below the waistline. Fenris tasted like sweat and lyrium, sex and mana. Hawke was drawn to his electric charge, familiar in a way to how his blood hummed when he began to channel a lightning storm, yet unique in that casting bolts of lightning had never made him so hard.

At least, certainly not in recent memory.

Fenris made Hawke feel things he had never thought possible. Emotionally and physically. He was so good, perfect even with his rough edges. He was strong and loyal, every day growing more sure of this, of them. He was everything that Hawke had never known he'd needed.

And he was apparently done waiting.

Long fingers came to rest in the mess that was Hawke's hair, pushing him down as Fenris pushed up, his length brushing Hawke's cheek, causing him to groan, his hips to stutter. Hawke had only made it as far as the vee of hips, had hoped to make it halfway down his legs at least, but he could never refuse Fenris anything. Especially not something he himself wanted so very badly.

Hawke went where he was directed, lightly mouthing over Fenris, still somewhat reluctant to give up on his teasing. But when Fenris shifted his hips and growled low in the back of his throat, Hawke moved to swallow him to the hilt in one smooth, practised movement. He pulled back to let himself breathe, but the motion had had the desired effect. Fenris' chest arched off the bed, a subtle flush high on his cheeks, dusting the tips of his pointed ears. Fenris looked down then, meeting Garrett's eyes.

"Hawke." He managed to grind out, the one word thick and heavy with need. And Hawke did not need to be told twice.

Hawke massaged his hands up and down Fenris' hips as he kissed and licked his way up Fenris' cock before taking him in his mouth once again. Not backing up this time, he worked his way down. And then back up, down again. Gentle pressure and suction all the while, the lightest scrape of teeth just once or twice for the way it made Fenris' hands grip the bedsheets with force enough to tear.

"Hawke! Oh-ah-Garrett, I can't-"

Hawke kept his pace, steady and merciless, and when he moved back up the elf's shaft to suck and lave at the head of his cock he felt Fenris' muscles tighten, thighs snapping in to hold Hawke close, keep him right where he was. As though Garrett could even imagine being anywhere else in this moment.

As Fenris' orgasm crested, his hand grasped intently at Hawke's hair, hips straining up against the hands pressing him to the mattress as he came with a gentle cry of Hawke's name.

Hawke thought it might just be the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Which he decided was only mildly narcissistic of him.

Fenris' grip on Hawke's hair lessened, hand going soft to smooth through the thick locks as Garrett finished cleaning his lover with a clever tongue. Fenris eventually tugged him away, the stimulation too much after all that focussed attention. He met the mage's eyes and smiled softly at him in that way he had; one corner of his mouth quirking up, his eyes crinkling as they softened with a sense of satisfaction and love. 

"Get up here." He murmured, and Hawke was more than happy to oblige, crawling up over Fenris to meet his lips for what felt like the first time in ages. They kissed languidly, Fenris lax and lazy in the aftermath of finding his pleasure. He had skimmed a hand down Hawke's torso, which Hawke didn't notice until the elf's fingers brushed over the length of his erection. Hawke gave a pleased hum against Fenris' lips, already close to the edge from just the closeness of Fenris, his smell, his taste.

Fenris made almost embarrassingly quick work of his lover and Hawke came with a groan onto Fenris' stomach as he buried his face in the curve of the elf's neck, flicking out his tongue for one more taste, one more spine-tingling shiver of electricity.

After cleaning them both, Hawke returned to the bed, into Fenris' welcoming arms. Hawke curled into the smaller man, taking comfort in his strong embrace, allowing himself to feel lighter, safe.

They stayed that way for several long moments, eyes closed, legs tangled, as close to each other as they could possibly get. Hawke finally opened his eyes to find Fenris gazing down on him with a soft smile and softer eyes.

Nights like this were special. Nights where they could just be quiet and close, no fears, no impending disasters.

"You're incredible." Hawke murmured, reaching up to brush a thumb along the elf's cheek. His blush from earlier had faded, but his grin widened slightly as Hawke spoke. "You are absolutely magnificent. Everything I never could've dared to hope for." Hawke's tiredness was catching up to him, relaxed as he was, and every few consonants out of his mouth would slur together. Fenris reached up his own hand to cover Hawke's, thumb tracing lazy circles as he said:

"You're not too bad yourself."

Hawke huffed a laugh and pulled Fenris even closer. Everything else could wait until tomorrow. He had what mattered most here in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> my name is Hawk,
> 
> and't has been said
> 
> that magick's taste
> 
> goes to my hed.
> 
> they knowe me not,
> 
> i knoe myself.
> 
> i simplie want
> 
> to lik the elf
> 
> *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
> 
> As always, my undying gratitude to gothic-princess-witch for everything she is and does.


End file.
